


The nights are long

by Glowsquid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Keithtober Whumptober 2018, Nightmares, Swearing, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowsquid/pseuds/Glowsquid
Summary: Nightmares aren't new to Keith.Not at all.They're just a bit different now.





	The nights are long

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot I wrote this. Huh.

Sure, Keith had nightmares before coming to space.

They started after his Father died. The contents were hazy and hard to remember but the feelings of loneliness and fear that chased him into wakefulness were strong enough to keep him awake for hours after, lying in the dark, with nothing to do but cry into his pillow and miss his Pop so badly it hurt to breathe. 

He still gets them as an adult, though not nearly as often. No matter how well he’s been doing every once in a while he’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find he’d been weeping, fresh grief smoldering in his heart. 

He suspects this is not a sign of good mental health. He wonders if he should have seen a grief counselor or something. 

Too late for that now, because fighting in the thick of an intergalactic space war doesn’t leave a lot of time for reminiscing. And the universe won’t cut Keith a fucking break because the nightmares of his father are nothing compared to the dreams he gets after the Battle of Naxzela. 

They all start the same, with Keith in the cockpit, plunging towards that shield. Which cockpit varies, and sometimes Keith finds himself in the fighter he had been in in the battle, sometimes in Red, sometimes in Black, sometimes on his Pop’s bike. The crash never varies. Keith didn’t know it was possible to feel pain in dreams but know he knows. He can feel the flames lapping at his skin and charring his flesh. He can feel his body crumpling like a coke can, every bone splintering and disintegrating. 

He wakes from these dreams with a start and a shout and a t-shirt soaked through with sweat. It takes a while for his heart rate to calm down and his muscles to uncoil and the panic to drain out of his veins.

These nights take a toll on him, a visible one. He knows the others suspect something is up, if the bags under his eyes are any indication, and the number of times they catch him drifting in the middle of the day. They don’t pry. They show they care quietly, giving him space when he needs it or company when he’s lonely.

But Shiro is the only one who really gets it. 

Late at night when they both flee their rooms to escape the troubling dreams they find each other wandering the halls.

Shiro gives him a single, understanding look and without a word they begin to walk together. Sometimes they talk, casual chatter to keep their minds off of their trauma. Sometimes they sit in silence for hours, staring at the masses of stars outside the castle windows until Keith finally drifts off to sleep again, head falling on Shiro’s shoulder.


End file.
